Sherlock Holmes Housekeeper Novels & Stories

He added with a wink. Lola let out a sigh of relief and smiled before returning the pouch to him. “Thank you.” * * * Sanders family mansion. The housekeeper ran up, not stopping until she opened the door to the room of her mistress without a knock or an invite. “Madam.. we have visitors.” Martha, the Sander family housekeeper announced almost breathlessly as Charlotte’s pissed-off face turned from where she sat at the table to face her angrily.

I looked at Asher's house in dread, I barely managed to open the door, and I was welcomed with a warm voice that greeted me. "Good afternoon, dear. You must be Asher's new wife, aren't you?" she asked I looked at the woman closely as I admired her silver hair styled in a neat bob. "Yes, ma'am, I am," I said, my voice struggling to stay steady as my heart raced in fear, this was all strange to me, a new environment, a new home. "No need for formalities, dear. I'm Thompson, the housekeeper," she said with a gentle smile.

The mansion seemed to stretch on forever, and I was beginning to wonder if I’d ever find the control room. Suddenly, I stumbled upon a housekeeper who was mopping the floor. “Good morning, sir,” she greeted, her voice curt. “Good morning, how are you?” I asked her. The woman looked shocked for a moment before replying, “I’m fine, sir.” From her reaction, I could see that the bodyguards were not friendly with the housekeepers. So, I hardened my expression and asked in a harsher tone, “Where’s the control room? She fidgeted at my sudden change in demeanor and pointed to the next three doors from where we stood.

I think the housekeeper really gets my style. I hustle down the stairs and the house keeper is waiting for me with a large coffee and donut. Smiling until we hear shouting from Reeds office around the corner. She really is perfect at this job. “ Sounds like a bad day” I mutter. “Don’t worry Dear, Mr. Malcolm may seem hostile now but, I promise you a cup of hot cocoa will soften him right up.” His housekeeper smiles. “You mean he doesn’t take his coffee black” I joke

There was a sternness in their expressions, a shared sense of duty that seemed almost suffocating. “Admiring the family history?” I spun around, startled to find an older woman watching me. Her gray hair was pulled into a neat bun, her posture impossibly straight. “I’m sorry,” I said quickly. “I didn’t mean to intrude.” “You’re not intruding,” she replied, though her tone was cool. “I’m Mrs. Harper, the head housekeeper.” “It’s nice to meet you,” I said, extending my hand. She hesitated before shaking it briefly. “The staff has been instructed to assist you with anything you need,” she said, her words carefully measured. “If you have any questions about the household, feel free to ask.”

“But I would not wish to disturb my husband. Is there another one elsewhere?” The housekeeper gave a friendly nod. “There’s one in my quarters, ma’am. You would be welcome to use it.” “Thank you,” she said in relief. Picking up her breakfast plate, she rose to her feet. “Do you mind if I use it now?” Sitting in the housekeeper’s cosy suite ten minutes later, crunching an apple as she looked at the screen, Leah had barely started her search before she heard an angry voice behind her. “What the hell do you think you’re doing?”

Descending the staircase, I felt uneasy, my mind consumed by worry for Mrs. Cha. My concern lingered over whether or not she was aware of what had taken place the previous night. Perhaps she knew and was too frightened to come back to the suite to get me. All I wanted was to give her a hug and make sure she was doing okay. I gently pushed open the door to the housekeeping chamber. No one was around; apparently, Mrs.Cha had gone home after her shift to tend to her ailing husband.

said the voice, polished in a British accent that belonged more in a sitcom than at the gates of a ridiculously wealthy Latin family’s estate. I squinted. “Elizabeth?!” Our old housekeeper. The only sane person in that house besides me, and even that was debatable, stood there with a clipboard in hand, glasses dangling around her neck, silver hair slicked back like she’d just left the gym, and an expression of pure triumph. “Still recognize me, even though you look like you just escaped a therapy session?” she teased with a wicked grin. I groaned. “Please. Don’t start.”

"He's not feeling well." "Should I call the apothecary?" "There's no need, it's probably just a cold," she assured her as I watched their interaction. "Porridge then?" the woman suggested. "No, Henry hates..." She stopped herself, thinking. "Maybe it would be good for him." "I'll see to it," the housekeeper assured. "Did you come to see Mrs. Dashwood?" I interrupted their conversation, curious about the housekeeper's original intentions. "Oh no, I'm sorry," she turned to me. "Miss, you have a visitor."

She called the housekeeper to clean the hall of the debris of broken crockery and vases; she also ordered her “Remember to get the exact replacements first thing in the morning tomorrow.” “Yes madam” housekeeper nodded without any expression. She had only been with the Holston household for 2 years and was transferred here from the old house when the previous housekeeper retired. She didn’t have any sentiments or attachments to this mistress who treated everyone poorly. Michelle didn’t even give the housekeeper a second glance as she walked upstairs after giving orders, let alone apologizing for waking her up in the middle of the night or thanking her for cleaning the mess past midnight. The